Warden Vignette's
by kadoshi
Summary: Short stories for each of my wardens, looking into their character and past. Will be six chapters in total.
1. Veira Surana

The library was noisy and full of life, with apprentices chatting amongst themselves and young children pretending to read as they goofed off with their friends, careful enough to mind the Templars. Although quiet was best suited for study, Veira couldn't help but enjoy the noise. It was better than stuffy and contained fear of doing something wrong that would set off their vigilant watchers, and it was always heartwarming to see children laugh and have fun. The only way they could pull off this type of afternoon is dependant entirely on which Templars have watch, and today, those Templars were those who tolerated noise. Still, all the mages knew just how far they could go before the fully armoured guards retaliated, so the socialization went on.

Although the teenaged elf enjoyed the excitement around her, she did not participate with it. She was more the type of waiting for someone else to invite her to join them, and insofar, the rest of her peers were content with the circle of friends they currently had. And her best friend Jowan was currently in extra classes, as his last test had not gone so well. But being alone in such a crowded place did not bother her much, and she was content to read while the rest had their fun.

That was when a human girl plopped herself across from where Veira sat.

The elf couldn't tell if the girl wanted her attention or not, as her eyes were still focused on the book she almost had pressed to her face. She peeked over the brim of her book carefully, to get a secret good look at her, just to be sure. The girl was leaning on the table with her torso, her head resting firmly on her palm and grinning. She was awfully pretty, dark skin, brown hair that had hints of red, and a smile that lit up the room. Tilla was her name, someone who Veira only really knew when they had lessons together.

"Hi there," she said cheerfully, not taking her eyes off the elf.

"H-hi," Veira stammered, slowly lowering the book in her hands.

"You're Surana, right?" Tilla asked, "the one Irving is mentoring?"

Veira's heart sank. Many apprentices resented that. "That's right."

"Wow!" Tilla beamed, raising herself up on both hands, "you're way cuter than my friends described!"

Veira almost choked the surprise out of her throat. Her face went bright red. "Oh-uh, t-thanks. Thank you."

"Haha, sorry!" Tilla laughed, brushing the hair out of her eyes, "I'm really bad at putting names to faces! I was just wondering if you'd like to join me and my friends over at that table." She nudged a thumb over her shoulder. "You looked a bit lonely over here!"

Embarrassment aside, Tilla seemed like a nice girl, and here was the invitation she was waiting for. She smiled at the human mage, nodding happily. "I'd like that."

* * *

"Psst, Surana."

"Yes?" Veira whispered.

"Don't you think that Templar over there has a butt face?" Tilla whispered back, a giggle in her voice.

Veira snorted, then immediately hid her face in her book when the instructor looked over. She leaned in closer to her friend when he looked back at what he was doing. "He does," Veira agreed.

* * *

"Veira what's wrong?"

The familiar voice came from Tilla, and the teary-eyed Veira looked up at her, fighting back the urge to dissolve into uncontrollable sobs. "I'm never going to have children of my own."

Tilla said nothing. She just sat beside the crying elf, gently wrapping her arms around her. "I'm sorry," she soothed, and Veira gave in.

* * *

"Why are you staring at me, Tilla?" Veira asked, grinning at the human.

"I really want to kiss you."

Veira spun to face her, eyes wide and cheeks flaring. "Really?"

"Really. Do you want to kiss me?"

"I have for a while."

The human girl smiled. Maker, her smile was like sunshine.

* * *

Veira had to convince herself it wasn't love. It was the same for Tilla too. They found affection within each other, to be sure, but it couldn't be more than that. Sometimes they sought out comfort in other mages, such is how it was in the Circle, and next to no one believed it was wrong. You steal moments like that, in secret. But it was true that the warmest and happiest comfort came from each other, when they were together. And they were both content with that.

* * *

"What...did you say?"

Irving turned to her, concern in his eyes. He looked more tired than usual, the weariness seeming to age him a hundred years. Had he always looked this fragile? "I'm sorry child," he said quietly, "but Tilla will not be coming back."

"But..." she whimpered, her head spinning, "_why?_"

Irving wrapped his arms around her, as one would to comfort a child. "I am forbidden to say."

Veira did not hug him back. She did not cry. Six months she had Tilla in her life, and like that, she was gone. The blank stare was all she could muster, all she could do.

To save herself, she vowed to not think of her again.


	2. Kaya Tabris

_By the fucking Maker do I hate shems._

Kaya Tabris was, as usual, pissed off. She watched her targets from the rooftops, eyes furious and teeth clenched. A group of humans were visiting each household in the Alienage, collecting taxes. Taxes that each elf in this dump almost killed themselves to get from the meagre wages they were paid as servants. She took a swig out of her bottle, the alcohol burning in the back of her throat. So far these shems hadn't physically hurt anyone. But Kaya would watch. If those fucking shems laid a hand on any elf...they'd be spitting bloody teeth so quick they wouldn't have the time to say 'back off knife-ear'.

When they moved on, so did she, following them silently above. She had done this so many times it wasn't even remotely funny. And the last time she had, those shems did make the mistake of hurting an elf. Unfortunately for her, the humans she very nearly disfigured came back with guards, and they _very nearly_ killed her. She eyed the purple bruise on her arm, a gross contrast to her pale skin. She survived. She persevered. Rinse and repeat.

She made a promise that she probably couldn't keep. Her father had burst into tears when she came back home that day, bloody and beaten. Her heart wrenched at the memory, guiltily squeezing the bottle in her hand. But she had to do this. She had to make sure. No more elves to be dragged off and never seen again. The alcohol burned in her mouth.

When the shems finally left, Kaya took a final gulp from her bottle. "I need a drink," she muttered, getting up to climb down.

She was greeted cheerfully by everyone in the pub, all faces she saw on a regular basis. All of them drinking buddies, many of them bedmates. She sat beside a bunch of her oldest friends, motioning towards the barkeep for a drink. "Hey losers," she grinned, her eyes glancing around the rest of the pub, "you guys seen my cousins?"

"Not today," the elf beside her shook his head, then he grabbed the empty bottle she had still been holding. "Shit, Kaya, were you drinking on the roof again? You're gonna get yourself killed, and not by shem. By snapping your neck."

"Oh fuck off," Kaya snarled, "I'm not an idiot. Takes way more than this to get me tipsy."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he waved a hand, "hey, your dad came in here earlier looking for you. Seemed urgent."

"Dad did?" she asked, to no one in particular. "Guess I better go see him. Thanks."

She gave a playful slap on her friend's back, leaving the pub as quickly as she could. She sped down the alleyways and streets, avoiding the garbage scattered everywhere. Her house was a dingy thing, the roof in dire need of repair and the steps old and broken. Home sweet home and all. "Dad, I'm here," she called through the open door, taken aback immediately by the sight of her two cousins sitting in the living room. "Woah. Have you two been here all day?"

Soris, brown haired and dorky, said nothing. It was Shianni who grinned, her flaming red hair a target for the eye. "Sort of," she said. "We've been waiting for you."

She sat lazily between them on the lumpy couch placed in the middle of the room. "That's not creepy at all," Kaya laughed, relaxing in her seat. "What's going on?"

"You're getting married," a voice said beside them, her father leaning against a doorway.

Kaya blew a strand of jet black hair out of her eyes. She hadn't really processed what he said. "What now?"

"You're getting married," he repeated, moving to stand in front of them. "Soris is too. You two will have a double wedding."

"What the _fuck?" _Kaya gaped, not bothering to watch her language around him. Soris shifted uncomfortably beside her.

"Language," he warned mildly, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, dear, but it's just...with what happened with you and...those guards...it's time for you to settle down."

Kaya groaned. She knew that this day would come _sometime _but...this was way too soon for her. "Are you serious?" she scolded him, "were you ever going to, you know, _plan _this with me?"

"This is our way," he reminded her gently, not minding that she was giving him a hard time about it. "You knew this day would come. And I...I fear for you. It won't happen for a few months, but that will give us the time to prepare. Marriage will give you a little more protection from the humans."

"I don't _need _protection from those assholes," she snarled hotly.

"Yes! Yes you do!" her father shouted, but it was desperate instead of commanding. "They almost killed you, Kaya! And I know you still watch them! Please, Kaya, I'm begging you, listen to what I am saying. I don't want to lose you like your mother...I can't."

Kaya's heart caught in her throat, her hand squeezing the couch. That was still raw for the both of them. "Sorry dad," she said quietly. Then she grinned slightly. "It's just...can you blame me...us? Soris and I are kind of what we call 'mega hotties' and we have a reputation to uphold."

Soris choked and her father and Shianni laughed. "I know, I know," her father smiled, rubbing his forehead, "this isn't easy for you. It certainly wasn't when I had to...but I promise it is worth it."

They talked for another few hours, going over what to expect and reassuring that everything will be alright. When her father left, Kaya frowned. "I need a fucking drink."

* * *

She hated seeing her father on the verge of tears. It was her weakness, and she liked to think she didn't have that many. And this time...it might be the last time she ever saw him. The nobles who hurt Shianni were dead and gone, but so was her fiance and her life had taken a turn that none of them could have predicted. She was going to become a Grey Warden.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise," she said sadly.

His lower lip trembled, but he smiled. "No. I'm so proud of you. I just wish..."

"I know," she nodded, and hugged him tightly. "I love you. You hear me? I fucking love you."

"Language," he chuckled, and she could feel tears dripping onto her back. "I love you more than anything. Please come back to me one day."

"I will."

And that was a promise she did indeed keep.


	3. Rem Mahariel

"Try not to make any dumb jokes while you're getting your vallaslin, lethallan."

"_Dumb _jokes?" Rem Mahariel gasped at her clanmate, "you wound me."

"Come on, Rem," Tamlen groaned, "it's an _adulthood _ritual. You say the wrong, immature thing and the keeper'll make you wait for ten years before you can do it again."

"Oh that's not _that _long."

"Take this seriously!" he scolded her, but too loudly. The deer they had been hunting sprinted away, out of sight in mere seconds. "Ah...sorry."

She patted his shoulder. "Happens to the best of us. Everyone gets loud around annoying clanmates."

"You're not annoying," he said immediately, "it's just...I really want us to become fully adults. Both of us."

"Does it really matter if we don't at the same time? A few years difference won't be that bad, will it?"

"It matters to me," he said softly, looking away from her. "For reasons."

"Fine, fine, I get it," she surrendered, "I'll try to keep my mouth shut. Come on, let's go find another deer."

They hunted for the rest of the day, coming back with a few rabbits and birds as contribution for the feast they were about to have. The clan would hold a celebration supper tonight for the vallaslin ritual, two members becoming adults was one of the greatest events a Dalish clan can hope for. Rem and Tamlen would eat well tonight, then cleanse their bodies for tomorrow, when they would receive their blood writing. Their tattoo's will represent their chosen deity of the Dalish pantheon, as long as the Keeper deemed them worthy. Screaming out in pain while receiving the tattoo's was one way to show you were not ready. But Rem wasn't worried about that. Honestly, she wasn't all too worried about it at all. As long as she didn't go too far with her jokes...she would be fine.

She hoped Tamlen could see that. They have been friends ever since they were infants, basically, so it was a little disconcerting he was of such little faith with her. But that was probably her fault, to be honest.

While the clan cooked the feast, Rem and Tamlen were captured by curious children asking endless questions about the ritual.

"Will it hurt?" one asked innocently.

"Kinda the point, isn't it?" Rem grinned, "s'gotta hurt to show your dedication to the gods."

"Rem," Tamlen scolded, "look-yes it will hurt, but not that much. Don't worry about it."

Rem shrugged. Guess it was okay to tell a little lie to the little ones.

"Are you going to have a bath with Rem?" a young boy asked, causing Tamlen's face to turn bright red.

"It-it's a cleansing..." he stammered, and Rem just laughed.

"Yep! We're gonna have a bath together. Tamlen better thank the gods that he gets that chance with the prettiest girl in the clan."

"_Oh Creators," _Tamlen groaned, hiding his face in his hands, "please stop."

Before they could tease him more, they were called for the feast. Ten courses of delicious food, eaten together with the whole clan laughing and drinking. When the food was gone, they brought out their instruments to play their most cherished songs, much of the rest of the clan opting to dance with their loved ones. Grinning, and feeling adventurous, Rem grabbed Tamlen's hand and pulled him up from the ground. "Dance with me!" she sang, moving her feet in a traditional Dalish step.

He grinned back at her, moving to join her. Now there was the Tamlen she knew and loved.

When the music died down, keeper Marethari stood to address her clan. "And so, our feast ends. But as the last of the flutes quiet, and the last morsel of bread is consumed, a journey is about to begin for two of our children." She turned to face Rem and Tamlen, a gentle smile on her face. "This ritual is one of our most ancient and sacred rituals. All Dalish must complete it one day. But rest assured, there is no shame in not gaining your vallaslin the first time. It is something you must accept when you are truly ready."

Rem gave Tamlen a playful nudge, but he ignored her.

"Do you feel ready, children?" Marethari asked, her hands behind her back.

"Yes," Tamlen said immediately.

Rem almost bit her tongue to hold back a sarcastic comment. "I am."

Marethari nodded. "Then let the cleansing begin."

Weeks ago, the clan had set their camp in an area that had a direct source of running water, the stream nearby large and clean. There were several wading pools that they could use, and a few clan members began preparations. There were specific herb remedies required for the cleansing that had to be mixed in with the water, to maximize muscle relaxation. The cleansing required a high level of meditation to truly reflect upon the gods and the Dalish, to truly decide which god you wanted as your vallaslin. Rem felt that aspect was unnecessary, as she had already decided a long time ago which god she wanted. But the serene relaxation part of it was certainly appealing.

The two elves going through the ritual needed to be prepped too. For Rem, Ashalle took on the role of getting her ready. The woman had been like a mother to Rem, so she was more than happy to have her as the helper. "I'm so proud of you," Ashalle smiled as she worked, "you'll do great, I am sure of it."

Rem chuckled. "You don't think I'll say something too immature?"

"...maybe. But that's just who you are, my dear. Marethari knows you are ready."

"Haha, thanks."

Ashalle led the young woman she raised towards the pools.

* * *

Marethari stood proudly in front of the two young elves, the blood writing ready to be permanently written on their faces.

"Before we begin," she smiled, "we must know which of the gods you have chosen, and your reason for choosing them. You will carry this god with you for the rest of your life, as plain as your eyes, your mouth, your hair. You must convince me you are worthy of carrying that god."

She turned to Tamlen first. "Speak, lethalan."

Tamlen spoke his reasoning like a poet would the sky. His words were heartwarming and true, and Rem could tell that Marethari was proud of him. And she was proud of him too.

The keeper then turned to Rem. "Speak, Mahariel."

She hesitated. She glanced quickly at Ashalle, remembering her words from last night. Then, she grinned. "I choose Ghilan'nain, Mother of Halla. As for my reasoning..." she shrugged, "what can I say? I enjoy being...horny."

Tamlen slammed his palm onto his forehead so quickly that Rem was impressed. The elves watching around them grew silent, and Rem could tell some of them were holding back laughter. Worth it.

"_Mahariel_," the keeper warned, her frown frightening.

"Alright, alright, I couldn't resist," Rem laughed defensively, then straightened her posture, "I chose Ghilan'nain a long time ago. The Halla are free, but are as integral to the Dalish as the People are. That's what I've always wanted. To be as free as the wind, of hooves pounding the earth as I run, and still choose to come back here, to my friends, to my family, and know that I am needed and loved. And Ghilan'nain...she was once one of the People. The gods are powerful and true, and they always have been. But her...she would understand us most. That's why I admire her."

Marethari stared at her for a long time. But in the end, she sighed, smiled and nodded. "You have both have the right to receive your vallaslin. May you not speak a word. May you become your true self."

Neither of them made a sound.


	4. Daria Brosca

Daria Brosca almost never smiled.

A smile was an invitation, you see. An invitation to chat, to socialize, something she could not bring herself to care about. The less relationships she had with other dwarves the better. Less to lose in the end. And a smile was an invitation to a man, where they see a promise that most likely isn't even there. But sometimes, the promise was there by force. Rica was being taught the latter. She was blameless in all this. All the casteless in the end were blameless. And for Daria...a decision was coming up. Beraht wasn't going to be patient forever.

There were only two choices; killer or noble hunter, which was a kinder way to say 'selective prostitute.'

Daria felt guilty that Rica had to be a noble hunter. That her only hope in life was to become pregnant with a royal bastard so she could live out her days as a concubine. She felt guilty because Daria couldn't be by her side, learning how to sing and dance and please. She had considered being a noble hunter just so her sister wouldn't be alone...but just the thought of becoming pregnant and giving birth made her feel violently ill. Bile and acid would eat away at her stomach, a pain so intense that it could knock her to her knees. She had been that way ever since she was a small child. She had their mother to thank for that.

And, to top it off, she had recently realized that men did not interest her in the slightest. She'd sooner throw herself into lava than to revolve her life around them and their pleasure. But the guilt was still painfully there.

She sat alone in her room, waiting for Beraht to return with Rica. She could hear her mother in the other room, her drunken snores grating. As per usual. She let out a long sigh, pressing her temples harshly with her hands. Wasn't she being selfish? Rica didn't want to be a noble hunter, but she had no fighting skills and Beraht would never consider her for that job. For Daria, she did have two choices...and she wanted to choose the option Rica couldn't have.

Wasn't that horrible of her?

She jumped slightly when the sound of a door opening broke her away from her thoughts. It was Beraht and Rica; Daria could tell by the way Beraht's footsteps swaggered like a king. He threw their door open, a smug smile on his face, as red-headed Rica stepped through. She was pretty as always, but unsmiling. She sat beside her sister, saying nothing. It was so unlike her.

Beraht leaned against the doorway, tilting his head at Daria. "So. You decide yet?"

Daria bit the inside of her cheek. She had, but was it right?

She felt a gentle hand rest on hers. Rica was finally smiling. "It's alright. Make the best decision for you. Do that for me, okay?"

Daria squeezed her hand, a lump forming in her throat. "Yes, I have," she nodded, glaring right into the disgusting man's eyes, having one last moment of defiance before she became his personal murder pawn. "I'll kill for you."

"Hah!" Beraht laughed, disregarding the glare completely, "of course you'd choose that. It's almost a shame. I think you're prettier than your sister. Nicer lips."

The bile made its way back into Daria's stomach.

"But whatever," he continued, "say it if you want, you still gotta prove you can do it. Lucky for you, I have a job opening. One of the shopkeep's isn't paying his due. You're gonna deal with him and get my money. We clear?"

Daria nodded, not looking at him. When he left, Rica pulled her into a hug, which Daria felt she didn't have the right to return.

"We'll be fine. We'll be okay."

* * *

Daria never killed before.

She'd gotten into some serious brawls in her time of course, how else would she develop her fighting skills? But she never had to stalk someone, to hide in the shadows waiting for the best opportunity to strike. The man she was after was calm, busying himself with packing away his merchandise before returning home to sleep away the night. He probably had a nice, warm home to return to. He was not casteless, and she hoped that fact would make his death hurt less. It didn't. But Daria had to choose between her and him, and if she didn't fulfil this job, she and Rica wouldn't eat. She clutched the dagger in her hand. It was either him or her. Caste or casteless. Survival or death.

The brand on her face dictated so many things.

Unfortunately, the job didn't go as smoothly as she would have liked. He saw her at the last second, knowing her as casteless the moment he looked at her cheek. He turned to flee, screaming at the top of his lungs. But there were no guards to hear him. Daria cursed under her breath, but managed to catch a break. The man ran towards Dust Town instead of farther into the Commons, a decision that was clouded by his fear. She sprinted after him, taking all the shortcuts she memorized; the sight of a screaming merchant not a bother to rest of Dust Town. It was a common enough occurrence.

When he ran into a dead end, Daria knew she had him.

"P-please," he begged, tears running down his face. "I'll pay you! I'll do anything!"

As always, Daria's face was expressionless. "Sorry."

A flash of anger ran across his face as he dived towards the ground, grabbing a nearby rock. He managed to hurl it at her face, clipping her temple harshly, but not enough to knock her out. She could have dodged it, but her body found no need. She hoped that wound would never heal. "Sorry," she repeated numbly, readying her dagger.

A few moments later, her job was complete.

She rummaged through his pockets, finding the payment he kept from Beraht...and a bit extra. He did like it when his pawns found extra money, and it would make her look much more competent if she managed to find bonus coins on her first job. She paused, reeling at her own thoughts and what she had just done. She squeezed her fist until her nails drew blood.

She did not leave that alleyway for several hours.

When she finally returned to the tiny hub she called home, she caught her reflection on a broken hallway mirror. Her eyes looked different. The shape and pale green colour was the same but...something about them now was off. The dark circles under them only emphasized how foreign they were to her now. She broke away from the mirror, stumbling her way to her and Rica's bedroom.

Her sister was inside, waiting on their bed. Daria's voice caught in her throat when she realized Rica's eyes looked exactly like hers, dark circles and all. Wordlessly, she sat beside her, and the pale hand of Rica groped for hers. A bronzed hand took it, entwining their fingers. _We won't be fine. We won't be okay._


	5. Tanya Cousland

Highever was always so pretty in the morning. Tanya was generally an early riser, eager to put on some light armour and grab her sword and shield, the training ground her favourite place to be. But before that, she would always take the time to watch the sun rise from her window, cheerfully awed at the bright purple and pinks decorating the sky. Her brother Fergus always poked fun at her obsession with fighting and love of pretty things like the sunrise. He seemed to think she was being indecisive over whether she wanted to be a 'proper' lady or a 'tomboy.' She pondered over this constantly. Couldn't she be both? Or how about neither? She just wanted to unapologetically beat down people and go pick flowers later. Was that too much to ask?

She yawned heartily, grinning as the light basked over the castle in the first morning light, just as it always did. She quickly dressed into her training gear, grabbing her worn down sword and shield, almost dancing down the steps into the foyer. She greeted everyone she came across enthusiastically, most of which wondered how on Thedas she had that much energy in the early morning. She was about to turn the corner that would lead to the training ground, when a strong hand grabbed her ear.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Tanya cried, losing her balance slightly as she fell back. As it turned out, her attacker was her sister-in-law, who was sporting a pretty epic crinkled brow.

"Tanya," she warned calmly, her pretty Antivan accent ever present,"just what did you promise to do today?"

"Er..." the young warrior pondered, eyes rolling to the side, "not...training?"

"Oren!" the Oriana scolded, "you promised to look after Oren today! Fergus and I will be away on business, remember? Really Tanya...we talked about this yesterday!"

She grinned apologetically. "Heh, sorry. Got excited for something else."

The Antivan woman pursed her lips at the sword and shield, but said nothing, having gotten used to the younger warrior sister thing. Instead, she just sighed. "Just look after my son, please. Don't let him touch your sword. In fact, don't bring it along with you."

Tanya shrugged, waving away the woman's concern. "Okay, okay. No sword. He up yet?"

Oriana smiled. "He has been studying. Such a smart young boy, no?"

Tanya gave her a fake smile. If she knew anything about kids, it's that they definitely don't want to read boring academic crap this early in the morning. "Yeah, he sure is. I'll go get him."

Tanya stepped into Oren's room quietly, hoping to surprise her nephew with loud antics. She had to stop and grin when she saw him. Head pillowed in his arms, snoring slightly, quill still in one hand. "Aha," she laughed quietly, "don't blame you." She nudged his shoulder gently, and the boy slowly raised.

"Auntie?" he yawned, still half-asleep.

"Hey, kiddo. I get that you're sleepy but, you gotta at least be awake to see your parents off. Then you can take a nap with me, okay?"

He rubbed his eyes, bobbing his head. "Can I ride your shoulders?"

Tanya ruffled his hair. "Always. But once you grow a few feet, forget it."

She lifted Oren up onto her shoulders with ease, running through the castle and making horse noises, along with the sound of Oren's shrieking laughter. She took a few detours, through the kitchen, past the library, and through the mabari pen. Her faithful hound Jake tore after her, barking up a storm and following them to the front of the castle, where her brother and his wife were about to depart.

Oriana gasped. "Oh! Be careful you two!"

Fergus baked a laugh as Tanya ran up to them. "And what are you doing with my son, dear sister?"

Tanya shrugged. "I'm a horse."

"Yes, I know that already. But what are you doing with my son?"

Tanya kicked her brother in the shin. He yelped in surprise, and Oriana scolded her immediately. Oren however, was laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes. Fergus seemed to want to get his revenge, but the sight of his son warmed his heart just in time. He playfully grabbed him from Tanya's shoulders, spinning him.

"Come to see me off, eh? That's my boy," Fergus laughed. Jake joined him by running around in circles with him.

Oriana sighed, shaking her head and then smiling. "We're going be late, dear. We don't want to keep mother and father waiting."

"Right, yes," Fergus grinned, putting Oren down, then ruffling his hair. "You be good to your aunt, okay? Ask her what we discussed."

Tanya tilted her head at that, but said nothing. "Have a good trip," she called, waving her hand.

When the carriage left, Tanya knelt and Oren climbed back up onto her shoulders. He leaned over, pressing his chin against the back of her head. "Auntie, where do babies come from?"

Tanya froze mid-step. Fergus, you magnificent bastard. "Uhhh," she stalled, "from a...delivery of sorts."

"Were you there?" he asked.

"I was."

"You watched?"

Tanya hung her head. "No. I cried and hid behind a curtain."

Oren giggled. "Auntie is a scaredy-cat!"

Tanya nodded. "Auntie can be at times. Now come on. There's a great spot on the hills for a good nap. You in, kiddo?"

Oren hugged her. "Yeah!"

* * *

Amalia rushed to her father, tears in her eyes, and hugged him tight. "I'm sorry I ran away daddy! I was so scared!"

Mathias beamed, hugging her back tightly. "It's okay, butterfly. You're safe now."

Tanya smiled at the two, a job of demon killing well done. Amalia wouldn't be threatened by one any longer.

The young girl turned to the warrior, a thankful grin on her face. "Thank you for saving me, auntie warden!"

A twitch spread throughout her body, but her face kept still. She wouldn't let her smile fade. "It-it was my pleasure ki...Amalia. Keep safe, you hear?"

After they left, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" Alistair asked, his face full of concern.

The last Cousland looked down, her eyes distant. "No. I am not."


	6. Edda Aeducan

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, my lady?"

Edda Aeducan smiled at her second, his hands behind his back and concern etched in his features. It was natural for him to be concerned with her, it was his job after all, but she shook her head at him. "Yes," she said, "I am very sure. I believe I am old enough to make such decisions for myself."

Gorim became flustered at that, tipping his head as an apology. "I-of course my lady. I did not mean to insinuate that you-"

She raised a hand, gentle, yet commanding. "I know. Your concern is noted. But I have thought this through, and I am certain. It is a way...to show my dedication to my family."

Gorim nodded. "I understand that but...why a tattoo?"

Edda sat back casually as she eyed the tattoo artist prepping the black ink and needle, fully prepared for the mild pain she'd have to endure. "A tattoo is permanent, something you cannot erase," she explained, a warm smile tugging at her lips, "as is the ties to my family. As for the design...it is three pillars representing father, Bhelen, and Trian."

"Ah..." Gorim sighed softly, "pillars. You intend to be their support."

"You are as clever as you are a capable second, Gorim."

His cheeks flushed as he looked down, a bit of humble disagreement. "I do not deserve my lady's kindness. I just hope your father won't react badly to his beloved daughter changing her look in such a...permanent way."

Edda's eyebrow twitched. She wanted to yell that it did not matter if her father approved or not, but she knew Gorim felt the same, it was just that he wanted to remind her of the issue. It did not make it any less irritating, however. "My grandmother had a facial tattoo. It should not be an problem."

The tattoo artist went over the procedure, reassuring her that the tattoo would not interfere with the event that would happen much later that day, as he prepared several numbing healing potions and explained that as long as no one touched it in the next few days, it would dry and heal perfectly. Her father had planned a social gathering with the noble families, a way of endearing his children to the various important houses. And perhaps find potential marriage candidates for all of them, but mostly Edda. It took several hours for her tattoo to be completed; three long, pillar-like shapes put on both her cheeks and her forehead. The pain was not as bad as she thought it would be. She paid the artist handsomely and snuck her way back into the palace to begin to prepare for later.

Her gown was a striking gold and red, colours that her mother favoured and told her daughter that they would suit her best, as she inherited her mother's gorgeous dark brown skin. She did her hair in a classic braided bun, careful to not let a strand of hair brush against her new additions. She smiled at the mirror, but it quickly faded. She understood why her father made these plans. It was time for his children to get more involved in Orzammar's politics, to groom the potential heir of the throne. Edda knew she wouldn't be able to, that honour always was presented to the sons first. Trian, the eldest, was the obvious choice. And Bhelen, though younger than Edda, was most likely the backup. She accepted this long ago, deciding to dedicate herself to improving her own skills; in warfare, education, and leadership. She needed to be the support of her brothers. But Orzammar's politics and culture were always underlined with schemes and secret end goals. There was no straight honour. She could play the game well enough, she had to, but just once in her life she wanted to do something for the greater good without having a hidden agenda. Perhaps that was impossible here.

The gathering went well enough, many of the guests paid most attention to her, asking about the tattoo, meeting eligible men, and just generally being sociable and respectable. Her father was surprised at the tattoo, but prompted him to tell a heartwarming tale of his mother's own experience with facial markings, making Edda sigh with relief. The only one who didn't seem to enjoy the party was Trian. When the final guests vacated the palace, and their father turned in for the night, Edda went to see her brothers.

"Did you have a good time, you two?" she asked politely.

"It was relief that they kept their attention on you, dear sister," Bhelen grinned, "I'm glad you were not overwhelmed."

Trian's lip curled, a scoffing noise escaping him. He eyed her face disapprovingly. "What exactly convinced you to get those things put on your face? Disgraceful."

Edda flinched, the tone in his voice not like anything she had heard from him before. "Trian, what-"

"You look like you are trying to emulate the _casteless," _he snarled, "I cannot believe father approved."

Edda gasped, such an accusation was unheard of towards a member of the royal family. It especially hurt that it came from her own brother.

"Trian," Bhelen said, his eyes wide in surprise, "how could you say that to your own sister?"

Trian looked as if he was about to burst a neck vain, but he closed his eyes before he exploded. He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "It is late," he grumbled, "get some rest, you two."

He stormed off, his footsteps heavy and echoing in the empty chamber. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, Bhelen smiling at her gently. "I'm sorry he said that," he soothed, "you look beautiful, sister."

She smiled back at her beloved younger brother, resisting the urge to scratch at one of the tattoos on her cheeks. She hoped this was just one outburst from Trian, and the strained situation wouldn't escalate.

How very wrong she was.

* * *

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die.

As she limped her way towards the defeated Old God, her thoughts went back to a time spent in blissful ignorance. Playing with her brothers as children, the inheritance of her grandmother's armour, Bhelen's betrayal, finding Trian's lifeless body. Becoming a Grey Warden, meeting her new family and comrades, falling for, of all things, a bastard human prince. And then, she saw the times where her ignorance faded, and the truth spilled out. Dust Town. Broodmothers. How an Archdemon is killed. So many lessons, so much she had done. She thought of her dream, to do something for the greater good with no ulterior motives .

Her rejection of Morrigan's deal.

As she broke into a run and grabbed a nearby weapon, she felt like she could smile. _Ah, father, mother, Trian,_ she thought, _I will see you in the Stone soon. But I must save Ferelden first._

She brought her sword down with no hesitation.


End file.
